


Fish Out of Water

by loneclaire



Category: Everything's Gonna Be Okay (TV 2020)
Genre: Acting, Canon Autistic Character, Canon LGBTQ Character, Canon Queer Character, Crushes, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, F/F, Family, Female Friendship, Female Protagonist, Fish out of Water, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Half-Siblings, Little Mermaid Elements, Major Original Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Musicians, Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, POV Female Character, Pining, Platonic Female/Female Relationships, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, Platonic Relationships, Secret Crush, Secret Identity, Strangers to Lovers, Theatre
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:00:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26233807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loneclaire/pseuds/loneclaire
Summary: When Sam recommends that Matilda assist the drama team by playing piano at auditions for their production of ‘The Little Mermaid,’ she reluctantly agrees. After all, it’s a step up from her usual role in the tech crew, and she’ll take any opportunity she gets to spend more time at the piano. What she doesn’t expect is to find a ragtag band of theater geeks who actually take her in—particularly one leading lady by the name of Rory Wilson. When she slowly becomes more acquainted with the cast, though, she’s forced to confront her identity as she starts to develop feelings for Rory that push the limits of just being artistic admiration... and discover that her crush has a few secrets of her own.
Relationships: Matilda (Everything’s Gonna Be Okay) & Female Original Character
Kudos: 2





	Fish Out of Water

The sun draped through the open windows of the dining room as Matilda sat on an island stool, her chin cupped in her hand, her gaze locked on the outdoor scenery. She could hear and smell the electric, crackling sizzle of Nicholas cooking breakfast on the stove, but it was merely white noise to her, as she focused on the warm glow enveloping the house’s four walls. 

It’s a known adage that California doesn’t have seasons, but now that the greenery surrounding the house was actually, you know,  _ green _ again, she supposed wearing an outfit from her primarily floral wardrobe wouldn’t seem as egregiously inappropriate as it did in the midst of December. Besides, bike rides were so much more interesting to Matilda when she could observe the scenery as she became lost in thought. The accompanying breeze that caught behind her denim jacket actually made the harsh fabric worth wearing (well, that, and an excuse to iron her decorative patches onto something she could casually wear). A bike ride sure did sound appealing to Matilda right about now—

“Hello, Earth to Matilda. Are you in there?” she heard Nicholas’s accent snap, as he let a plate slip out of his hand and onto the space in front of her. “Your breakfast is ready. I didn’t spend fifteen minutes making this bacon just so you could get all frowny about it.”

“I’m not frowning, I was just thinking,” Matilda muttered, grasping her fork and digging into the waffle on her plate. “And I don’t know why you complain about me not being expressive when Genevieve is sitting right next to me.”

“That’s fair,” Genevieve admitted, looking up from her plate. “I have been working on my resting bitch face. I think I could use it someday.” She then quickly returned to staring at the food underneath her chin.

“Well, Matilda, care to share what you were thinking about?” Nicholas invited, placing his serving of bacon onto his plate. 

“Do you think it would be a good idea to take a quick bike ride around the neighborhood before the bus comes, Gen?” Matilda pondered through a mouthful of bacon. “Or should we just wait?”

“Not a bad idea,” Genevieve accepted. “Maybe some exercise will help me boost morale. I could use it now that  _ someone _ got me out of my suspension from school.” She shot an indignant glance at Nicholas, who didn’t even look up from his plate as he leaned his back against the countertop across from the girls.

“Are you making your menacing face right now? ‘Cause it’s still not very convincing,” he spoke dryly. “And, again, in my defense, no college cares about some attempt at vengeance from a fourteen-year-old girl who could get blown away by the wind. Most people only care about taking the moral high ground when it’s convenient for them, anyway. It wasn’t worth the stain on your permanent record.”

“Could you please stop being so pessimistic?” Genevieve insisted. “That was the  _ one _ unique quality I brought to this family.”

“Alright, well, if we’re going to make the bus, we better start riding now,” Matilda curtly changed the subject, shoving the last bites of bacon into her mouth. She reckoned that hearing one more word of this topic would result in no less than her crawling out of her skin. She rushed out of her seat and towards the front door, slinging her backpack over her shoulder.

“Fine, but next time remember that, unlike you, I don’t eat each part of my meal entirely before moving onto the next food,” Genevieve groaned in response. “Bye, Nicholas,” she said, turning her head over her shoulder as she left the room.

“Bye, Nicholas!” Matilda shouted as she fled out the door, having just remembered to mention the obligatory piece of dialogue. “Have a good day!”

“You, too, babe!” the girls heard him call in response from the kitchen.

Matilda rushed over to the nearby bike stand, grabbing her helmet and straddling her legs over the seat. As she snapped the clasps of her helmet together, she began picking up stride on the bicycle, swerving onto the sidewalk, with Genevieve not far behind. 

The tranquility of morning always soothed Matilda. Between the subtle sweetness of chirping birds, the gentle breeze that whipped her dirty blonde waves behind her, and the tint of golden sunshine draping across the neighborhood flora and fauna, to call an early bike ride heavenly would be an understatement. While she whisked and wormed her way through her usual sidewalk route, the teenager threw her head back, basking in the euphoric visual splendor of the sun’s glaze over the green leaves and grass on her path. 

Matilda looked upwards, studying the spectacle of the clouds dotting the nearly azure sky above. As the wind beneath her blew, she was tempted to arch her spine backwards and throw her hands (and caution) with it. She refrained, however, content to let her arms rise ever so slightly enough to allow a wind’s gust to flap the denim of her jacket. In that moment, she was, for all intents and purposes, a sheer force of nature.

“Wasn’t this a good idea, Genevieve?” Matilda cried to her sister, her voice wavering with the breeze.

“Yeah,” the girl responded plainly, not sounding very enthused. “Good going, M!” Her voice became chirpy, as if she were deliberate in attempting to lighten her less excited reply.

After receiving her sister’s confirmation of enjoying this outing, Matilda’s head lifted, softening the wild verve with which she began the ride. She occasionally closed her eyes and slowed her pace, allowing the peaceful silence to wash over her, the perfect escape from her worldly surroundings that were usually an assault on her senses. 

As she relaxed her pressure on the pedals, she noticed Genevieve catching up to her in her periphery. She didn’t mind this, so she simply eased her balance to the left side of the pavement, giving her sister ample space to pass—Genevieve was always something of a speed demon on the bike, ever since she learned how to properly ride one.

To Matilda’s surprise, though, once Genevieve’s bike caught up to her, she lessened her haste and began to ride in tandem with her sister. Confused, she simply continued as usual, but she didn’t understand why her sister would slow down all of a sudden.

“You can go ahead of me,” Matilda offered. “I won’t get lost.”

“That’s… not why I caught up to you,” Genevieve admitted slowly, letting each word hang off her voice. “Now that Nicholas is back from Mexico, I… I just want to make sure you aren’t still mad at me for hitting Zane earlier this week.”

Matilda sighed. As much of an indescribable aggravation the previous week had been for her, the thought of spending one more thought on the subject burdened her even more, especially when it felt like any discussion was about as useful as conversing with a brick wall. 

There were so many things she could tell Genevieve about how frustrated she felt that somehow, her reputation as the resident weird girl at school had managed to get  _ worse _ , now that the entire student body knew she coerced a blond, beefy jock into having sex with her in a trailer as she was heartbroken over the most popular guy in school—all of which happened during the first big party of the year. Despite how heavily the words weighed on the tip of her tongue, though, she knew Genevieve just wouldn’t understand. 

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Matilda finally replied curtly, too uncomfortable to look in her sister’s direction. Her knuckles turned white as she tightened her grip on the bike’s handles, her tense mood becoming visible. “It happened, we fought about it, it’s done.”

“I just want you to know that… I’m sorry, again,” Genevieve muttered, her voice dropping as she exhaled the apology. 

Hearing the frail words just made her more upset. “Genevieve, you don’t  _ understand!  _ It wasn’t a big deal until you and Tellulah made it one!” her anger caused her voice to rise, quivering with every other word. “Now the whole school knows I lost my virginity to Zane… and that I did because I was crying over Luke instead.”

Genevieve turned to reassure her. “Matilda, it’s not that big of a deal, girls lose their virginity all the time in high school—”

“Yes it  _ is! _ ” Matilda cried, cutting off her sister’s words. “I don’t have cool friends like you do. I barely even have  _ friends _ . There’s no one who will defend me when rumors spread. My classmates don’t even think I’ll be able to go to college, and now, because of you, they all probably think that I made Zane have sex with me just because he felt sorry for me.”

“But…” Genevieve’s rebuttal trailed off, as she pressed her lips together in a resigned grimace. “You do have friends, don’t you? Drea and Jeremy both went to the party with you, didn’t they?”

Matilda sighed. “Gen, you don’t get it,” she whimpered, a lump forming in her throat as she felt water droplets well up in her eyes. She hated the sensation of hot tears racing down her face, so she quickly brushed them off with her thumb, hoping Genevieve wouldn’t notice. “Everybody thinks I’m just a pity case. They know I’m in the special ed class. People see me go to that room. They all know I…” 

She couldn’t finish the sentence, and she didn’t think she needed to in order to make the point. It became too daunting to push herself to pedal while hiding her tears, so she just stopped. They had ridden around the block already by now, anyway.

“I know you can’t hide that you’re autistic, but Jeremy and Drea know that and still like you, don’t they?” Genevieve offered, placing her foot on the walk to halt herself. “You had your first sleepover ever with Drea just a couple nights ago, and you always talk about how Jeremy won’t leave you alone, right?” 

Try as she might, Matilda couldn’t argue with that, especially since the growing lump in her throat was making it difficult to talk at all. She wiped some more tears forming with her palms, then took off her helmet and tossed it aside. She was too upset by now to care where it landed.

“I guess you’re right,” Matilda conceded begrudgingly. “I do have Drea… and Jeremy.”

“We should stop now,” Genevieve suggested, looking over her shoulder as she removed her helmet. “The bus is coming.”

Matilda looked in the same direction, and sure enough, she saw the aforementioned yellow vehicle grinding down the street. “Now everybody’s gonna think I’m a  _ baby _ !” Matilda burst, surprising herself with the volume of her shouting. She could feel those tears that she thought she finally buried rising up again.

Genevieve gave her a sympathetic look, clearly regretting her choice to drudge this subject up. “Again, I’m so sorry,” the brunette maintained. “For bringing this up, for not staying in my lane, for dragging Tellulah into it, for everything. I screwed up, and I really want you to forgive me.”

Matilda wanted so badly to forgive her sister, too, to tell her that she had moved on from the drama that was the week prior. She hated feeling like this, but she couldn’t lie and assure Genevieve that she had moved on. 

“I just wish we wouldn’t talk about this anymore,” Matilda whispered under her breath. She couldn’t be heard, anyway—the bus had arrived at their stop by the time she was able to force the words out, its churning gears overpowering her volume.

“Let’s go,” Genevieve beckoned as the bus doors shrieked open. 

Matilda sighed, grasping the straps of her backpack, hoping the feeling of pressure would distract her from the impending onset of noise and judgemental looks. She reluctantly trudged up the bus stairs, catching a glance behind her to make sure Genevieve was still planning on coming with her.

Her legs felt like cement the minute she saw the student body’s faces shoot towards hers, certain that they’d notice the blotchy stains in her cheeks that would make her crying obvious. She forced herself to stare at the floor as she walked to her usual seat, sliding firmly into it the second she sat down. She watched to see if her sister would join her or someone else, although at this point, she really didn’t care. If anything, she just wanted to be left alone.

Despite her visibly distressed state, Genevieve still decided to accompany her sister along the ride. Matilda appreciated the gesture, even though her preference for solitude during this emotional state left her feeling suffocated in their cramped space. Luckily, she remembered that she’d brought her headphones in her backpack, so she quickly unzipped it and pulled them out, desperate to drown out the idle noise around her.

As she let herself absorb the music playing, Matilda’s head drifted towards the bus window, observing the scenery in hopes of calming down. How could she have let such a beautiful day go to waste by making such a scene?

She remembered the techniques Sam taught her to utilize when she was upset.  _ Combat waves of negative thoughts with positive ones.  _ She tried to halt her spiral into misery by thinking of something to look forward to during the upcoming day. After all, her sister wasn’t wrong to point out that she had a friend in Drea. The two had a fun time over the weekend, the closest Matilda felt to anyone who wasn’t a family member in years.

_ Focus on your breathing. Inhale until your lungs are completely full, then exhale until you can’t anymore.  _ In fact, Matilda was actually anticipating seeing Drea at school. She was always bubbly, and even if her bluntness could occasionally catch Matilda off-guard, Drea seemed to genuinely care about her in a way that no one else did—well, expect for Jeremy, but while she appreciated his fascination with her, she honestly wished he would care about her a little less. And Drea was always observant enough to recognize how Matilda was feeling, even if she couldn’t always directly understand. But she could already feel her mood improving.

__ Inhale, exhale….  
  


Matilda slowly pushed open her classroom door. She was careful not to make too much noise, lest she call too much attention to herself, the last thing she wanted to do right now. When she analyzed the room, she saw a space scattered with a couple of students, and, of course, Sam, her teacher, who was busying herself by typing something on her laptop. 

Thanks to her bus schedule, she was always one of the first people to arrive at school, and since so many of her classmates relied on transportation independent of the school, they usually arrived a little later than her. Besides, some of her peers just liked to socialize. While the unbearable noise didn’t usually motivate her to fend through the lion’s den of her school’s hallways, she understood that a lot of her classmates enjoyed hanging out in the library, or just chatting with friends in the hallway before class.

As she slowly walked to her seat, she heard a sudden question from the girl beside her, who didn’t seem to notice she had even entered the room until she lifted her head from her book. 

“Matilda, are you alright?” Drea inquired. “Your face is blotchy and pink, and your eyes are almost swollen. You look like you’ve been crying.” 

There was no point in attempting to hide the truth from her friend. Drea has finely-tuned senses that could sniff out any hidden emotion. Besides, Matilda wasn’t exactly a great liar, and Drea could recognize that, too.

“No, I’m not alright,” Matilda huffed, exhaling with such great force that she could feel her chest deflate. “Genevieve and I started talking about… the other night, and I was still very upset.”

“I’m sorry,” Drea offered her sympathies. She inquisitively cocked her head to the side, fidgeting with her fingers. “Did you have a meltdown?”

“I’m not sure, but I definitely came close,” Matilda answered, recounting the earlier events of the morning. She didn’t start throwing things or hurting herself, and she stopped herself from crying before it became uncontrollable, so she came to the conclusion that she nipped a forthcoming meltdown in the bud. “I started to do my breathing exercises before anything really bad happened.”

The girls noticed Sam standing near their tables. “Well, that’s always good news,” the teacher encouraged, nodding with a smile. “Matilda, can I speak to you for a moment? You’re not in trouble, but I have been asked about you by another teacher.”

Matilda glanced towards Sam in confusion, then whipped her head towards Drea to see if she had any idea what their teacher could be talking about. When her friend shrugged in ignorance, Matilda responded, “Sure.” 

As Sam slowly sat down at her desk, she motioned for Matilda to take the seat in front of her. The teenager obliged, folding her dress behind her as she made contact with the wooden surface underneath her.  _ Pleasedon’tletthisbebad, pleasedon’tletthisbebad,  _ she begged internally, hoping that such an early meeting wouldn’t result in her being chastised.

“Now, don’t worry; again, you aren’t in trouble. Far from it, actually,” Sam assured, her face softening. “And I want to compliment you on taking active steps to reduce your stress when upset. I know that’s been a struggle for you this year.”

Matilda thought now would be an appropriate moment to express gratitude. “Thank you!” she exclaimed, her voice shooting up an octave, which she realized almost as quickly as the two words left her mouth. “Sorry about that,” she muttered more quietly. She felt humiliated—the one time she remembered to adhere to social graces, there was nothing graceful about it.

“No need to apologize,” Sam replied with a chuckle and a hearty smile. “But on the topic of you getting upset, I want to talk to you about an incident that happened a few weeks ago. From what I’ve heard, it appears that, when you visited your sister at lunch, you accidentally revealed that your sister was going through something personal to her friends, and then rapidly became distraught once she displayed her frustration. You then rushed out of the courtyard and into the auditorium, where you angrily played the piano for a few minutes before you went to your next class. Does that seem right?”

The scene Sam was setting sounded resoundingly familiar to Matilda, who remembered the exact moments to which her teacher was referring in stark detail. “Yes,” she sighed. She preferred not to reminisce on the moments during which she threw her lunchbox onto the ground in front of an audience of fourteen-year-olds that eventually made her life even worse. “Why do you ask?”

“Well, I know all this because Ms. Álvarez, the drama teacher, noticed you performing,” Sam answered. “She says you were so absorbed in playing your piece that you didn’t seem to even register that she had come in.”

“I thought you said I wasn’t in trouble—” Matilda cut in.

“Because you aren’t,” her teacher repeated, placing her hand towards the girl’s to remind her of that. “Ms. Álvarez showed a lot of praise when she spoke of you. She thinks you’re really talented.”

Matilda beamed at the comforting remarks. She’d heard all this plenty of times before, but it was certainly preferable to damnation from a teacher she didn’t even know.

“In fact, Ms. Álvarez wanted me to ask you if you wanted to play piano during her upcoming auditions for  _ The Little Mermaid  _ production the drama team is putting on. Thanks to budget cuts, she doesn’t have an assistant this year, and she can’t play an instrument and evaluate her students’ performances at the same time. Her drama class takes place at the beginning of the day, just like this class. I don’t want you to be overly idealistic with this, since it’ll only be for a few days, but I will say that I’d be willing to let you participate in this as an extension of your career preparation,” Sam elaborated. “Would you be interested in that?”

Matilda slouched back in her chair, deeply considering the offer. She wasn’t exactly shy about playing the piano in front of others; anyone who had ever attended her numerous teenage recitals could attest to that. However, most of that audience consisted of the dregs of suburban adults, most of whom appreciated her talent on the keys, but wouldn’t be able to pick her out of a line if they tried. High schoolers were an entirely different ecosystem to navigate: not as overly critical, but rife with uncensored, piping gossip. One untimely meltdown, and she could be the laughingstock of the school—more so than she already was, thanks to her encounter with Zane the week prior.

That being said, she couldn’t deny the appeal of hanging out with the drama kids. Of the few she’d met in passing through shared class, they all seemed like interesting, compassionate people, just distant enough from the local teenage norm to have unique personalities. It’d be a nice change of pace, too; not that she didn’t love both the security of her routine and the students in her class, but enduring the constant remarks on her social skills and judgemental stares as she went through its door could get a bit redundant. Extra time at the piano was always an opportunity worth taking, in Matilda’s eyes, too.

“Tell Ms. Álvarez that I want to help,” Matilda finally answered with measured confidence, standing up from her chair to assert herself. “It sounds like a lot of fun.”

“I’ll do just that,” Sam affirmed, saluting her student with a firm wag of her index finger. “I’m glad you’re taking this offer, Matilda. I think it’ll be really healthy for you.”

Matilda returned to her desk, every limb of her body buzzing with excitement towards the newfound commitment. She was already entertaining herself with scenes of potential interactions between drama students, envisioning all the directions this experiment could take.

“Well, how did that go?” Drea wondered aloud, leaning towards her friend’s desk as if they were sharing secrets. 

“The drama teacher saw me play piano in the auditorium a couple of weeks ago,” Matilda shared with a pleasant grin. “She offered me a chance to play piano for their  _ Little Mermaid  _ auditions for a few days during this class, and I accepted!”

“Oh, I’ll miss you, but that sounds fun!” Drea said, her expression sheepish. “Do you think you’ll have a good time?”

“I don’t know a lot of people in the drama class, but you know what?” Matilda replied emphatically. “I do think I’ll have fun.”

“I could never,” Drea countered, grasping her fingers and rapidly shaking her head. Her body seemed to shudder at the thought. “Too many people making too much noise for me.”

“Well, if there’s ever too much noise, I’ll always have my headphones,” Matilda mentioned. 

“And, Matilda, one more thing?” Sam’s voice could suddenly be heard shouting across the room, causing Matilda to whip her head around. “You’ll have to meet Ms. Álvarez in the auditorium this afternoon and practice some sheet music for the auditions at home. Think you can do that?”

It sounded like a tall offer, but the girl didn’t even hesitate. “Yes,” she answered confidently.

This time, the word felt completely natural.


End file.
